


Xeniziation

by Cataline_Lucifer



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Abusive Filbrick Pines, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Body Swap, Drug Use, Filbrick Pines Is A Jerk, Filbrick Pines' Bad Parenting, Homelessness, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Torture, Internalized Homophobia, Mullet Stan Pines, Paranoid Ford Pines, Past Child Abuse, Past Torture, Period Typical Attitudes, Period Typical Bigotry, Period-Typical Homophobia, References to Prostitution, Reunions, Scars, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Stan Pines Angst, Stan Pines Needs A Hug, Stangst, Young Stan Pines
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-25 14:53:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22497889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cataline_Lucifer/pseuds/Cataline_Lucifer
Summary: After receiving a postcard from his brother, Stan travels all the way to Gravity Falls to check on his estranged brother just to be plunged into a sea of strangeness. Can Stan pull his brother back from the edge of insanity and can Ford break down Stan's walls for long enough to realise he really needed help.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 76





	1. Chapter 1

Stan jolted awake, clawing at his face and gasping for air. Another nightmare. He laid there in his metal cot for a moment until he calmed down. It was the same nightmare for a few weeks now, watching through a window as a room was engulfed in flames. As the fire grew and grew, Stan could feel the heat licking at his face and unable to step away until the glass shattered, and he woke up.

He sat up slowly and felt his muscles scream at him. The pain throbbed in Stans guts, it's deep and warm, but not in a nice way. It felt like someone has their hand in there and was squeezing his organs, gently at first and then as hard as they could. When it waned, he could move, when it returned, he could only hold still and breathe, breathe slowly and deep until it has passed. 

It could have been a lot worse, Stan thought to himself, could have been a hell of a lot worse. Swinging his legs over the edge of the metal bed frame, Stan felt the thin mattress creak and groan under his body as he shifted his weight. Stan looked around; everything was just how he left it when he went to bed. The filthy walls of the motel room looked even more putrid in the harsh morning light and the small pile of empty food cans that sat in the small bin in the corner had started to smell. That would mean going outside, and Stan had no disillusion that going outside meant a higher chance of being caught. 

He walked like his limbs didn’t really belong to him and each step was like a negation rather than an order. Everything hurt now. Every damn thing. Stan winced as he crossed the floor, to the bottles of pills on the counter. It was shameful, so shameful, but it didn’t stop him fumbling through them until he knocked a few of the bottles onto the floor. Stan didn’t care, not when he could feel his body caving in on itself.

There was a mirror above the cabinet. A flash of movement and he saw his reflection. Eyes sunken, face gaunt; his skin, that used to be so radiant and porcelain, now papery and yellow. Stan wondered if he could see his skull beneath it or if it was just his imagination or even worse just the lingering premonition of the unavoidable. His clothes weren’t much better, stained and worn but with only luke-warm water to was with there want much Stan could do about that.

Stan found the bottle he was looking for and tipped out half of what remained onto the counter, there wasn’t enough left. Scooping some off the counter he filled my mouth and leant into the soothing and familiar taste the chemicals on his tongue, Stan could feel the pills turn to powder as he crunched them until his head begin to swim and he passed out.

It was midday when he woke again, there was vomit on his shirt. Stan rolled his eyes and heaved himself off the floor and then the hunger hit. Days ago, it would rumble and snarl and howl and the pain would be unbearable until he consumed all the disgusting cans of mush, he had been left in the cupboard of his little kitchen area. But now it just aches like it was digesting itself but didn’t expect anything to satisfy it. Stan lifted a weak hand to open one of the cupboards next to the sink hoping to god that some food had miraculously appeared.

Sighing in frustration, Stan left the cupboard open as he walked away, the shelves were just as he left them, depressingly bare and devoid of anything nutritious. Stan opened the filthy net curtains a crack and peered out debating whether it was worth venturing outside. Stan let out a shaky sigh and sat in the old chair by the window and winced as the springs dug into his butt. Even if he did leave his room, Stan had no money to buy any food and his hands were way to shaky now to steal anything. Die inside for hunger or drug overdose or go outside to be tortured and left for dead in a ditch somewhere. Neither of those sounded appealing in the slightest.

Before he could think about it too much, there was a knock at the door. Stan froze, his whole body seizing up in terror just waiting for the door to be kicked in and then himself being kicked in. He thought he had a little more time before they found him… there was no way… he never should have thought he could get away. But as Stan waited for the inevitable, the inevitable never came. Instead a small piece of card was roughly shoved through the letter box and dropped to the floor in a wrinkled mess.

Slowly rising from his chair, Stan crossed the room being careful not to cast a shadow or make a sound until he reached the crumpled postcard. He could recognise that handwriting anywhere even before he got a proper look and the water damaged paper. It was Fords writing.

In the back of his mind Stan wondered how on earth Ford had known to send the postcard but the shock of actually receiving anything from his brother after all these years was far stronger. Stan felt a pang in his stomach, the last time he had seen Ford he was standing coatless on the chilled streets of their hometown looking up at the window in desperation as Ford turned away. 

Shaking his head, Stand tried to quell the pangs of guilt and hatred, to towards Ford particularly but to the whole situation and forced himself to try to make out the looped writing on the card most of which had been destroyed by the water damage. It looked like it read ‘please come’ all in capitals. There was no address but on the other side of the postcard there was a picture a town and the words ‘Gravity Falls’ plastered across it.

A quick look in the index of his map book from his duffle bag told Stan that the town was some tiny thing in the depth of Oregon. Circling the town, Stan closed the map book, that looked like something to risk being caught for. Stan quickly washed and shaved his face before changing into vaguely clean clothes, he didn’t want Fords first impression of him to be a down and out.

Packing up his few belonging into the duffle bag, Stan quickly scanned the room for anything else worth taking before pulling apart the net curtains a crack. No one outside and his El Diablo was only a few meters away from the door. Taking a deep breath, Stan threw open the door and leapt in his car before speeding away leaving New Mexico in his wing mirrors.


	2. Chapter 2

There wasn’t even a sign for the turning and after many hours of trial and error, Stan finally managed to find the road that lead into Gravity Falls. It didn’t really help that a freak snowstorm had dropped out of the sky to hinder Stans vision almost like the town itself was trying to hide away from him. Stan could make out thick forest surrounding him on all sides and couldn’t help but wonder what had dragged his twin out into the middle of nowhere. Without the snow the scene looked more like something out of the Evil Dead which may or may not have scared the crap out of him when he saw it in the cinema.

The town was actually very quaint regardless of the freaky looking surrounding with little houses and shops clustered together in a small clearing of the forest. Eventually he passed a dodgy looking diner that looked pretty run down and better at serving hat disease on a plate than anything else. Luckily Stan had only found enough coins from scrounging around for a small coffee.

Stan only took a few steps into the diner before the few people that sat along the counter turned and stared him down. The waitress wiping the top down tuned around revealing one lazy eye which unnerved Stan a little before flashing him a welcoming smile. She was kinda cute in a droopy kind of way but Stan didn't have time for that.

“Well hey there stranger, we were wondering when you were gonna come down from that creepy shack.” She said with a thick accent.

Stan rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, “Hehe yeah… um which way would that creepy shack be by any chance…?”

“Oh just over in those woods up there.” The woman said unfazed by the oddness of the question.

Thanking the woman, Stan decided against ordering the coffee and headed back out into the snow in the direction of shack she had mentioned. Before he knew it, Stan skidded around a tight bend and in a gap in the snow he spotted a cosy looking wood cabin tucked in the woods. It didn’t even have a proper road that lead to it as a gravel track split off the tiny road he was on. By the state of the car sitting around the side of the shack, Ford had driven up here and stayed put. 

As he got closer, Stan noticed the barbed fencing surrounding the shack and the layers and layers of signs prohibiting entry and it led him to question just what his brother had got up too to require such measures.

Dropping his hand off the steering wheel, Stan debated knocking of the door. Somehow, he couldn’t force himself to step out of his car as it rumbled gently and then growled to a stop. After a few long and painful moments and a deep breath, Stan grabbed his duffle back from the back seat and threw his car door open. He’s still your brother dumbass, Stan told himself, nothing stopping you from knocking, he’s family… Regardless of the imposing signs warning the consequences of disturbance.

His heart hammered in its chest and it quickly became the only thing he heard against the whistling of the winter wind. Slowly, Stan trudged past the frozen pines and crunched through the snow as the cold cut mercilessly through his think jacket. Climbing the stairs into the deck seemed to make Stan's legs turn to jelly as he raised his fist to knock but not even two raps in the door was thrown open and a cross bow was forced in his face.

“Who is it!” Ford roared with a crazed look on his face, “Have you come to steal my eyes!”

There was a moment for hesitation from both brothers as they stared at each other neither of them really sure how to react to each other’s presence until Stan broke the silence.

“Well I can always count of you for a warm welcome.” Stan said as he drew his eyebrows together in annoyance which really just covered up the alarm he felt.

Ford just stared at him with wild unhinged looking eyes and the dark circles under his eyes didn’t really help the enraged and paranoid vibe he was giving off. Guess he really committed to the mad scientist look; Stan supposed. 

“Stan?”

“Yeah Pointdexter, who else would it be?”

“You look…” something cold settled across Fords face that made Stan hesitate, something was very wrong with his brother.

“Old, yeah that happens. Now you gonna invite me in before my balls freeze off?”

Ford moved to one side of the door but put an arm against the door frame, “Stanley, did anyone follow you? Anyone at all?” 

Stan cast his mind back to the masses of goons that were hunting for him back in New Mexico, regardless of all the other states where he had pissed people off, but Ford didn’t need to know about that. Instead he pushed his way through the door and into the house.

“Don’t you need to get your bags?” Ford asked with a raise of his eyebrow.

“This is it.”

Ford narrowed his eyes at that for a moment before pouncing on Stan with a small torch in hand and shining the bright beam on Stan's eyes making them water in pain.

“Hey what is this?” Stan exclaimed in protest as he pushed his brother away.

Ford raised his hands in surrender, “Sorry, I just had to make sure you wer-” he broke off for a moment with a suspicious look in his face, “Er… it’s nothing, come in.”

Stan noticed the way Fords entire body seemed to twitch and his eyes refused to rest on anything for too long and suspicions and worry began to pool in his gut.

“You gonna explain what’s going in here because you’re acting more neurotic that out mum right now.”

Wringing his hands, Ford lead Stan into a room that was piled high with various weird and sci-fi looking contraptions and books. Every surface was little artefacts and scribbled writings. There was jars of weirdness, Stan couldn’t identify and strange flashing lights that seemed to come from nowhere and even a dinosaur skull in a tank. Raising an eyebrow to himself, Stan tried not to question Fords integrity too much.

Ford grabbed a pile of notes from one of the cluttered tables and a fancy looking note book off of his desk and turned away the skeletons head with a look of paranoia. Before Ford could thrust them on Stan the deep ache began to pool in his chest again and he felt his breath come out in short painful gasps. Taking a step back, Ford’s brow creased in worry but that was all Stan saw as he felt his body shut down as his vision faded out.


	3. Chapter 3

Ford stared down at his brother sprawled on the floor for a long moment before truly registering that Stan was no longer standing. Letting out a hum of discontentment, Ford supposed he was moving a little fast, but he really didn’t think that it warranted fainting, he hadn’t even got to the weird stuff yet. Then again, when did Stan ever get phased. It was one of his twins’ greatest attributes to be able to go along with his plans mainly because Ford suspected he was just used to not really understanding things so could just vibe. 

Crouching at Stans side, Ford poked his twin gently wondering what had caused him to pass out. In his hurry, Ford hadn’t noticed the bruising creeping out from under his collar that coiled up the side of his face. It looked old but Ford could imagine whatever had caused it couldn’t have been good.

Carefully, Ford gathered Stan into his arms and dragged him down the corridor to the spare room. Flipping him onto the bed, Ford felt something move in Stans chest making a sickening crack. Ford leapt away letting drop awkwardly onto the bed a little rougher that he intended. Hissing in annoyance, Ford pushed through Stans thin coat until he could feel the mashed-up mess of his ribs. 

Had he been in an accident, Ford wondered to himself for a moment but then even worse, he shouldn’t be able to walk in this state. Hooking his duffle bag off his arm, Ford rummaged through the bag and noticed with alarm that there was only a dirty set of clothes, a few bottles of pills, painkillers by the looks of it, a small pile of coins, a set of knuckle dusters and two flick knives.

He didn’t want to draw a conclusion from that, but the evidence was overwhelmingly pointing to Stan being homeless. Ford felt harsh drawing that conclusion, it seemed too close to what their father had predicted, but there really wasn’t any other explanation that made sense. 

Deciding there was no use jumping to conclusions, Ford hurried to his room and grabbed a rock off the nightstand. It was an amazing little stone that seemed to have the ability to heal people, the only drawback was it needed a lot of kinetic energy to work so usually required being smacked with it to work. Ford had only discovered it by accident when he had tripped and fell down a hill and managed to land on it.

Ford grit his teeth and smacked Stan with the stone as hard as he dared. Although it just so happened that Stan decided to crack open one eye just to witness Ford about to smack him and tried to leap out of the way. Luckily Ford still managed to catch Stan’s arm before he was tackled to the ground by his brother.

“What the hell Sixer!” Stan roared, “You were to one who asked me here now why are you attacking me?”

Ford wheezed in the choke hold Stan had gotten him into until Stan let go enough for him to spit out a few words, “Healing stone… needs… kinetic energy… gotta smack.”

Now that he mentioned it the aching throb of his guts that Stan had gotten so accustomed to had disappeared. He dropped Ford who flopped to the floor gasping for air and stretched himself out for the first time since the injury.

“Huh… nice…” Stan mused before nodding to his open duffle in offence, “Hey, did you go through my stuff?”

“Yes…” Ford caught himself, “Well only a little, you passed out on me, so I was a little alarmed and assumed you had a condition… why were you hurt?”

Shuffling uncomfortably, Stan just shrugged, “Eh just collateral right?” but before he could say anything else his stomach let out a gargling roar.

Ford looked startled for a moment but then his own stomach let out a similar noise and he smiled instead, “Dinner?”

“Sure, I could eat.”

Stan really had to hold himself back from shovelling in the simple plate of frozen veg and some weirded canned meat but after days of hunger it seemed like heaven. Just the feeling of something warm in his belly and the taste of something that didn’t make him gag afterwards was enough but after a few mouthfuls, Stan found he couldn’t eat any more. He had heard that you shouldn’t force the food after being staved from an old homeless vet who had been kept in some prison camp for moths.

It was awkward, Stan could feel Fords eyes analysing and observing him and it was getting very difficult to act normal under that scrutinization. Somehow it was like Ford was peering right down into his soul like he knew all the dirty secretes of the past

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” Stan snapped and immediately regretted.

“Do you not like it?” Ford didn’t seem phased luckily.

“Eh? Oh what, no I do… I just don’t really have an appetite anymore…” Stan shrugged and tried to force himself to eat a little more.

Fords eyebrows knitted together in thought but he didn’t say anything although he was clearly drawing his own conclusions. Instead he just raised his fork to his mouth and chewed slowly. The rest of dinner was awkwardly silent for the most part with both parties reluctant to probe or say too much until they had both finished. Stan grabbed the plates and began to wash them in the sink. 

“You travel light.” Ford said as he began to dry the dishes, it was as subtle as he could manage.

“Yeah, there’s amazing thing called washing your clothes… speaking of which?” Stan raised a questioning eyebrow as Ford pointed to the laundry room.

Ford quickly disappeared into the depth of the house saying something about his work, so Stan took the opportunity to that a much-needed shower. The bathroom was relatively clean with the only thing out of place being the cracked mirror over the sink. That suited Stan thought, he had no need to look at himself anyway.

Turning on the faucet and stepped under the warm spray of the water wondering when the last time he’d had a relaxing shower. Absently Stan realized that he had no towel and all his clean clothes were still in the laundry but even that wasn’t enough to stop the blissed out feeling of being clean after a really long time. Ford even had separate shampoo and body wash which Stan couldn’t help but feel guilty for using.

When he stepped out from behind the curtain, Stan noticed a towel and his clean clothes folded in a neat pile on the cabinet. He hadn’t even heard his brother come in. Towelling of quickly, Stan got dressed again and set off to find Ford. The house was a bit of a maze but eventually he found him hunched over his desk.

“There’s a room upstairs you can use,” Ford said without looking up, “Think there should be some sheets in the draws in there.”

“Are you heading to bed?” Stan asked carefully.

“I… in a bit… maybe…”

Stan raised his eyebrow, that sounded like a lie, but he didn’t feel like he was in a position to judge yet. He realised they hadn’t actually talked about why Ford had asked him there but taking another glance at his brother Stan reckoned he was in what he dubbed ‘science space’ and decided to leave it until the morning.

Even though the bed was a lot more comfortable that anything Stan had become accustomed to, he still lay awake tossing and turning until the early hours of the morning. Something about all of this really unnerved him and there was a bad energy coming from the house now that it was dark. Stan had never been superstitious but his mums ‘spiritual connection’ and numerous life experiences let him get a pretty good read on the place.

Groaning, Stan dragged himself out of bed and made his way downstairs blanket firmly wrapped around his shoulders. Vaguely he could hear Ford arguing with someone in a hushed voice. Stan assumed that he must be on the phone or something as he couldn’t hear the other voice but then he wondered why he was on the phone in the middle of the night. International call? Stan though that sounded reasonable.

Stan caught Fords eye around the edge of the door and Ford paused for a second to give Stan a dirty look and close the door. Letting out a sigh, Stan tugged the blanket closer and ventured outside to his car. Luckily the snowstorm had stopped and weirdly it looked like it was already starting to disappear in places. Sliding into the back seat of his car, Stan lay on his back and stared up at the familiar celling of the Diablo. How many nights had he spent alone and cold staring up at the same pitted room hoping and planning for change? Before he knew it, Stan began to drift off.


	4. Chapter 4

When Ford finally came out of his room the sun was rising over a frosty morning and light poured into the windows of the shack making Ford squint in offence. He reckoned he should probably apologise to Stan for waking him up and slamming a door on his face so went upstairs and knocked on the door politely. Ford hoped it wasn’t too early, but he had long lost the ability to judge what a normal sleeping pattern was.

Pushing the door open slightly, Ford began to talk, “Hey Stanley…”

Stan wasn’t there. Ford staggered backwards, had he just hallucinated his visit? Was last night all fake? The thoughts accelerated in Fords head and that paranoia he tried so hard to push down for Stans sake erupted like a geyser. Sprinting to the window, Ford wiped away the condensation. Stans car was still out there… that must mean that he was real… that must…

Before he knew it, Ford was running downstairs and was ready to throw the door open and throw himself into the cold morning, but a noise stopped him. Peering around the doorframe to the kitchen slowly Ford saw, to his relief, Stan humming to himself as he stood over the cooker.

The smell of pancakes wafted tantalizingly through the kitchen and apart from the colossal mess Stan had made of the work surfaces, Ford was relieved he was there.

“Morning Ford, I hope you don’t…” Stan turned around spatula in hand, “…wow you look like shit dude.”

“You made yourself at home.” Ford said a little more harshly than he intended.

“Wha-” Stan looked a little outraged and ripped a plate of the side to show Ford, “I’m making you breakfast dude. Stancakes!”

True to his word there was a stack of golden pancakes sitting proud on the plate.

“I couldn’t find a hair net, so they probably have some of my hair in em.” Stan said with an awkward smile.

“Oh, I didn’t mean…” Ford waved his hand and sat at the table, “Where were you?”

“I went out to the car,” Stan reckoned it was probably better not to tell Ford that he slept out there. He let out a nervous laugh, “So… I’m sure you didn’t just ask me here to cook pancakes.”

Ford looked up from the stack of pancakes placed in front of him and took a long bite before answering, “Yes, I asked you here because…” He hesitated, “Well that can wait until I need you to do it.”

“Huh, that’s cryptid.”

Ford smiles weakly, there was no way he could send his brother away without an explanation or a moment to breath but every moment he spent in his house brought him closer too… never mind that, Ford shook his head dispelling the thought. Stan was very injured and came all the way to see him, the least he could do was give him a few days to relax before sending him back to whatever life he lived. Even if it was an excuse for wanting a little company, Ford stood by it.

“Sorry, I some jobs to do today… you could come along if you fancy it.”

Stan raised an eyebrow, “What kind of jobs?”

“The exciting kind”, Ford said with a glint in his eye. 

When Ford said exciting, Stan wasn’t really sure what to expect but a hike through the freezing woods wasn’t it. The Ford he grew up with was less than athletic and seeing him striding through the undergrowth with a huge hiking bag in his back like it was nothing brushed Stan up the wrong way. He was a city boy, he wasn’t used to hills and trees and holes and on top of that he had always been the physically capable, strong one. Stans bag was half the size of Fords and he was already out of breath and wheezing. It was a good thing they had dissolved into a comfortable silence so that Stan could focus on his breathing and on not being bratty. The cold air stung his nose and lungs; Stan just wasn’t very impressed by anything at that moment.

“Remind me again why I let you drag me up here.” Stan said as they sat on a fallen log to take a break.

“Because the location I found is supposed to be a winter retreat so is temperature controlled and the door can only be opened if it’s cold but not in the dead of winter. My research indicates that this is the ideal weather to get in.”

“Yeah, that makes total sense.” Stan rolled his eyes, there was no point in asking.

A few more hours and the twins had reached a narrow cliff path no wider than a meter and Stan thanked god that he wasn’t scared of heights but still it didn’t stop the back of his legs feeling like jelly. Ford seemed relatively unfazed by the drop and every now and then Stan had to stop himself leaping to stop him walking too close to the edge. There was something deeply unnerving bout staring into the layers of fog beneath them, almost like nothing else existed.

After a particularly narrow bit Stan paused. There was something very, very wrong he could feel it in his gut like every primal thing was telling him to run. Stan had gotten very used to listening to his gut over the last decade but usually there was actually something wrong. About to put it up to false alarm, Stan took two steps before the feeling came back stronger than ever and this time it was accompanied with a deep, earthy rumbling. 

Leaping forwards, Stan barged Ford onwards nearly sending them both tumbling over the edge if it weren’t for the climbing axe Ford had managed to embed in the path. Ford turned to rip into his brother for his carelessness when he noticed the path that was previously under their feet had collapsed into the fog.

“You saved me.” Ford said in disbelief.

“Why do you sound so surprised?” Stan huffed, offended.

“No I…” In reality Ford had assumed that Stan would have been a hindrance he’d had to factor in, but he was actually proving to be a lot more helpful that he had thought. Just like when they were kids…

Before anything more could be said, the wind began to pick up causing the fog to whirl ominously. They needed to get a move on. It didn’t take much longer to reach the cave entrance which turned out to be no more than a crack in the rock. Somehow Stan found himself being thankful for the malnutrition or he wouldn’t have fit.

Stepping through the crack, there was a little area like a cave porch and Stan left Ford to his nerdy scribblings as he floundered around the small space. Stan had never liked small spaces and certain events that had taken place in the last few weeks hadn’t helped that sentiment, but he tried his best to still his speeding heart. Leaning up against a part of the cave, Stan leapt away ass a hiss crept up behind him.

“You found the door!” Ford exclaimed.

“Alpha twin!” Stan roared in pride and excitement, that was the happies Stan had seen Ford since he arrived.

The cave opened up dramatically and was automatically lit by a scattering of candles in every surface. Ford eyes lit up as he gazed at the painting on the cave walls. There was a small waterfall that spilled down the back of the cave wall and emptied into a glistening pool of water that was shielded from view by a rocky outcrop. There was a strange warmth that emanated from the walls which was a little concerning, but compared to the freezing conditions outside, it was bliss. Stan could imagine the native people holding up in the cave with the food they had been able to store being able to live for months in here comfortably until the land thawed out. 

“Before I get too carried away, we should set up camp.” Ford said as he dumped his bag against one of the corners of the cave.

Stan waved his hand in dismissal, “Eh, you go do your nerd thing, I’ll do it.”

Fords eyes lit up and he scurried off leaving Stan to start unpacking. It wasn’t glamorous or particularly comfortable, but Stan liked to think he had captured the den aesthetic every kid dreamt of. In a little hole in the rock, Stan found a pile of loot which was mainly old furniture which was no use to anyone but there was a nice-looking rug rolled up at the back.

“Oi nerd, check out this sweet rug I found.” Stan said as he spread out on it.

The rug was so soft and plush even though the design was questionable and it sure beat sleeping on a cold cave floor. Ford managed to tear his eyes away from the paintings on the wall for long enough to quickly glance over and mutter a confirmation before turning back to his work. 

“Sure, nice.” He murmured dismissively as he waved a hand over his shoulder.

Stan shook his head as he pushed the rug into the corner of the cave where he had hung the tarp of the tent around the corner to make a triangular den with enough space to spread out of both of their bedding neatly. Stan was acutely aware of the air of discomfort between them so hung another part of the deconstructed tent up between them. Back in the day, Stan and Ford would have had no problem sharing a bed let alone a tent but he wasn’t sure they were ready for that yet.

Laying in the ‘living room’ of the den Stan decided to take a little nap while he waited for Ford to finish for the day. That was until he was woken by the sound of his stomach rumbling. The candles had dimmed, Stan assumed they were synced with the day cycle somehow, and Ford was still staring at the same section of wall he was looking at before. 

“Hey sixer, what’s the time?”

“What? Oh, um, around eight pm.”

“You need to have a break dude, its been hours.” 

Ford shrugged and turned back to his work without a word making Stan scowl in annoyance. Letting out a sigh, Stan eased himself up and decided he’d make himself something anyway. All Ford had brought were those weird sachets of camping food, but it was better than nothing. Scooping some water up into the pan to put of the little camp stove they brought, Stan heated his packet up and began to wander over to where Ford was still crouched.

Everything moved in slow motion: Stand foot catching on a rock; the packet of food flying out of his hands and smacking into Ford and bouncing off onto the wall where it splattered all over the mural. 

He didn’t need to look at Ford’s face to feel the seething anger pouring off him in waves. Stan hand his hands up with an awkward smile that always popped up when he knew he had fucked up and took a few steps backwards. As much as he loved his twin, Ford had a tendency to give off the same vibes as their father when he got mad and that still scared the crap out of Stan especially now that he was a man and not a scrawny nerd.

Ford slowly wiped the food off his face and flicked it back at Stan, his face dark like thunder

“Now Sixer… let’s not get too mad. It might just wipe off.” Stan tried to reason but he could tell Ford wasn’t having any of it.

“You absolute oaf!” he yelled, “Do you know the gravity of what you just destroyed! I was so close to figuring it out but like always you had to come blundering through everything! How could you be so stupid!”

“Now that’s a little strong-” Stan backed up more as Ford kept stepping towards him waving his hands furiously until his feet touched the rug.

“A little strong! A little strong!” Ford roared, “I don’t think you quiet get the gravity of this Stan! I really thought you were actually helping for once but then once again you just get in my way! You are such an idiot!”

“Hey! That’s not fair, it was just an accident.” Stan protested he hated being called idiot but now wasn't the time to loose his head.

“Oh, like how my science project was an accident.” Ford knew that was a low blow and the look of devastation on Stan's face didn’t fill him with the satisfaction he had hoped for, "All you have ever done is lie and cheat off me for your own gain. You couldn't let me have one good thing, could you?"

Stan's face fell for a moment but his defences were up, “When are you going to let that go? You and I both know you didn’t need that scholarship to go places. You really think I would have screwed you over for my own gain?”

“I don’t know Stanley; I really don’t know.”

“You know what screw you buddy! You were the one who asked for me!” Stan barked out a harsh laugh.

“This could have been my life’s work and that’s all you can say to me.” Ford’s voice shook to be calm as clenched his fists in anger.

Stan's arms were already before Ford even swung and stepped to the side. Neither of them noticed their hair as it began to stand on end of the energy building around Stan's socked feet as the scuffled on the carpet. Kicking him in the ass as Ford over balanced, Stan felt a spark of electricity prick between his foot and Ford as he went tumbling into the den he had made. Static shock sped through his body and for a moment Stan wondered if he had been electrocuted as he tumbled backwards, everything going black before he hit the floor.


	5. Chapter 5

“Holy Fuck.” 

That was his voice speaking, but Stan hadn’t opened his mouth. Then thinking about it, it was Ford who had fallen into the tent but still it was Stan who was untangling himself from it.

Letting out a groan, Stan shook himself up and took one look at… at himself and let out a high-pitched scream. Except it wasn’t his voice, it was Fords voice and that was Ford’s tell-tale hand coming up to grip his face in shock.

“What the hell is going on here?” Stan managed to force out, “How come you’re me?”

Ford let out a hum of thought, “I guess somehow we switched bodies.”

“Switched bodies… right that makes total sense…”

Stan blinked at himself, he really looked like shit with that awful mess of an uncut mullet and the same washed out complexion. It couldn’t be real, but the unfamiliar feeling of health was telling enough that it couldn’t be his own body. It seemed like Ford was realising the same thing as he let out a groan of pain.

“Why do I feel like shit?” Ford whined

“Eh, you might wanna start on these.” Stan said nonchalantly as he tossed a bottle of a bottle of pills at his twin.

“Are these even legal?” Ford asked as he scrutinised the bottle and looked disappointed as Stan shrugged, “Are you an addict?”

“No, you gotta wean off em slowly usually as you heal but that rock you smacked me with obviously messed up the timing.”

Ford didn’t look convinced but that was enough to make him stop nagging.

“Real in that judgement pointdexter, I gotta say you feel knackered. When was the last time you slept?” Now it was Fords turn to shrug in a shifty manner making Stan groan in exasperation, “You better start if you’re riding around in my bod, I can’t be missing any more beauty sleep.”

Ford laughed to himself for a moment before catching Stans annoyed look, “Sorry I just find it kind of funny, we were just about to beat the crap out of each other and now you’re mothering me.”

“I’m still mad that you ruined my den y’know…” Stan rubbed his neck, “Sorry about the paintings…”

“Sorry for being a dick.” Ford said as he went back over to the wall and wiped away the food with his hand to reveal the paintings perfectly intact underneath, “Oh look they were fine after all…”

Stan shot Ford a look of daggers for a moment before stretching himself out. It was so weird to be sitting in someone else’s body it was weirdly intrusive and made him question what separated consciousness from body was which was an uncomfortable feeling. Although he got the better half of the trade as he ended up in the fit genius, whereas Ford ended up in the body of a broken grifter. If they didn’t fix this, he’d really have to do something to try to make up for the shittiest trade off.

“Speaking of cleaning off, we’re both still covered in food. How about a dip in the pool and then we can eat properly?” Ford suggested.

Stan felt his stomach twist as he muttered out a strangled yes. There was no logical reason he could say no, they had never been shy around each other before and there was no point arguing it now that they were in each other’s bodies. He really hoped Ford would have the decency not to look but knowing his brother, once he noticed something that caught his interest decency tended to get put in the back seat.

The pool looked inviting and the water was surprisingly warm as it sparkled in the candlelight. Stan turned his back to Ford and began to strip down to his underwear but before he got too far Ford had slid into the water with a clumsy splosh showering him with beads of water. Letting out a sigh, Stan slid in and ducked his head under the water relishing in the cushion of silence for a moment. The twins washed off for a moment backs to each other until Ford finally spoke up. 

“Stan…?”

Stan tried to answer but his voice got stuck in his throat. He could feel Fords eyes on him and against his better judgement he turned around keeping his eyes on the water. 

“What happened to you?”

Lifting his eyes slowly, Stan let his eyes drift over his body and the pink and silver marks marring the skin, each telling a different equally unpleasant story. It was weird seeing it all from an outside perspective.

“Do you want a list or what? Just wash me nerd.” Stan spat and turned back around to concentrate of working the food out of his, well Ford’s hair.

Ford placed a hand on Stans shoulder, “I would actually… Stan I don’t, I want to know about your life. About what you’ve been doing these past ten years.”

“Trust Ford, you don’t wanna know.” Stan waved his hand dismissively, he couldn’t lie to Ford so it seemed easier to just avoid the subject as much as he could but even then, Ford never was one to take no for an answer.

“What happened?”

Sinking into the pool until the water lapped around his mouth, Stan didn’t answer for a long while.

“Who’s Eric?” 

Stan spluttered; he had totally forgotten about the tattoo in curled writing along his hip and he felt a little attacked that Ford had looked at it. Swallowing hard, Stan took a deep breath to calm himself.

“It was a dare.” He lied but by disbelieving look on Fords face it hadn’t been convincing.

Ford scrutinised Stan for a moment and let his nerd brain figure out the details. The heavy blush that settled across Stans face and the flowery writing made it clear that it wasn’t just a dare… more like a tattoo you would get for a lover. A look of realisation crossed Fords face for a moment that made Stan want to die.

“He was your… you were a thing? Like a… You’re a queer?” Ford coughed instantly regretting his choice of wording, it was hard to remember what was considered offensive when you were brought up to hate it.

“I ain’t no faggot you can fuck right off.” Stan scoffed but the tell-tale blush was back.

“No, sorry I didn’t mean it like that. I went to collage so I quickly learnt the real world doesn’t have time for the bigoted opinions we grew up with.” Ford crossed his arms behind his back, “What I mean is, I don’t care who you bone.”

Stan looked away, embarrassed, “Alright yeah, we were a thing for a bit.”

“What happened?”

Letting out a long breath, Stan shook his head, “He was killed, beat up and left for dead in an alley way. Trust me Ford there is still plenty of bigotry in the real world.”

“Oh, I’m sorry that happened to you. I really am.”

“Fine, alright. Lets just get dried, I’m knackered.”

The twins dried off and got dressed into their own clothes in a comfortable silence despite the questions still hanging over their heads. Honestly, Stan was just glad to get back into his own clothes and even more glad that they were still roughly the same size to save that embarrassment.

After a while of untangling the remains of Stan's den, they decided to abandon it and slid into their respective sleeping bags. Not that either of them would admit it, neither Ford nor Stan slept much that night. Instead they just stared up at the cave ceiling with to occasional glance at the other as they pretended to sleep.


End file.
